


Confessors Cannot Make Liars

by crammit



Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-06 02:07:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/730375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crammit/pseuds/crammit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Mord'Sith are not nice." You whisper, squeezing my wrists in your grasp. "And Confessors are not liars." I counter, tightening my shoulder and pulling, in an attempt to break free of your hold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Legend of the Seeker and its characters do not belong to me. I'm only borrowing them. But I promise to put them right back where I found them.

The light breeze teases a shadow across the curve of your shoulder, as both the campfire and I lean closer to your body. Our solitude makes me bold as I slide our shared blanket further down your back, resting my palm gently along the dip of your spine. Pressing up on my outstretched arm, my eyes skim your bronze skin, each warrior's mark enticing me to glide my fingers up your spine, tracing reverently across bone, muscle and scars.

Your face is turned away from me in sleep, your strength and stubbornness apparent in the curve of your jaw, softened only by slightly parted full lips that know every secret I thought I had. Your blonde hair is tousled and hides the warmth and softness I know I would find if I were to lift the silken strands and press my lips to the nape of your neck. I raise my hand to do just that but something else catches my eye and I redirect my focus.

There is no thought but the one that forces my blood to run faster, careening through arteries and veins beating like a drum inside a heart that is no longer my own. My hand wanders to the curve of your hip, my eyelashes fluttering as I encounter the rough edges of four distinct scratch marks. I force my tense fingers to relax, taking a deep breath to try and loosen this fist of need that is my constant companion whenever I am near you. You'd never admit it, of course, but even you need rest. And as there are still a few hours left in the night, I am intent to see that you get it.

My noble intentions vanish as you shift slightly under my hand, the breeze having abandoned the fire to instead dance along your skin, announcing its presence in the form of goosebumps. An answering parade marches across my own skin and I feel my nipples tighten in response. I know I should draw the blanket up over us both, allowing us to pass these last few hours in sleep. But as you turn your head towards me, sly green eyes meeting mine, the blanket becomes irrelevant.

"Can I help you, Confessor?" Your voice is rough with sleep and I feel a small twinge of guilt at having woken you.

"I was just gathering the blanket to cover you," my hand grips the edge of the blanket and freezes, as I watch your eyes drop down to my breasts.

"Liar."

I glance down at your softly spoken word and feel a blush tug a half smile from my lips.

"Cara, that's not very nice." I lightly scold you, resuming my grip on the blanket and sliding it up along your lower back. Without warning, your right hand grips my wrist, your body turning on its side and pushing the blanket down to your thighs.

Your eyes are intense and despite everything between us, my heart rate trips over a small ridge of fear. A brief second passes before your other hand reaches out, sweeping my arm to the side and knocking me to my back. Before I can draw breath to speak, your body is sliding over mine. My wrists and arms are pinned above my head as you straddle my thighs. My peripheral vision catches the flexing of your thigh muscles as you hold yourself above me, most of your weight pushing my hands into the soft dirt above our bedroll.

"Mord'Sith are not nice." You whisper, squeezing my wrists in your grasp.

All traces of sleep are gone from your voice but the tone is no less rough and I swallow against a suddenly dry throat. The firelight is behind you, casting your features into shadow. A dark and dangerous presence. A visceral reminder of who I have chosen as a lover. And there, another reminder, as your thumbs brush lightly against my palms. Love and lust replace thought and reason and I tilt my head back further to look at you.

"And Confessors are not liars." I counter, tightening my shoulder and pulling, in an attempt to break free of your hold.

"Don't you mean Confessors cannot make liars, Kahlan?" I can hear the smirk in your voice and want to make some kind of retort but you've shifted your weight. The softness of your thighs distracting me even as the sensation of your nipples brushing against mine sharpens my focus to every point where our bodies are now touching.

"Let us find out," without breaking eye contact, you release one of my wrists, bringing my left hand to your throat, pressing your weight into my palm. "Command me, Confessor."

Involuntarily, my fingers tighten once against your throat and the look you give me makes my insides clench, forcing breath past my lips on a low moan. Helpless, I can only say your name.

Your right hand holds my wrist tight to your throat, your other hand still keeping me stretched out beneath you as your lower back arches and chases all coherent thought from my head. "I've been wet since you first pulled the blanket down."

You spread your knees a little wider and my own back arches as I feel your wetness slide along my lower abdomen. Slowly, you rock your hips against me, painting me with the warmth of your arousal. I can only watch as you lick your lips, your hand at my wrist preventing me from pulling you into a kiss.

"I see you in my dreams and wake up wanting you."

"Cara, please…" I try to reach for you but your hand pushes down harder and I can feel the trembling in your muscles as your hips begin to pick up their pace. Planting my feet, I begin to move with you, as your chin drops towards your chest, your hair brushing against my forearm.

Your eyes are liquid fire and reluctantly, I glance down, watching where your body is moving in an ever-quickening rhythm against me, feeling an answering wetness between my own legs. I can feel the hum of your moans against my hand as you grind harder against me and I release a shuddering breath. Thief-like, the sneaking tendrils of my magic start to tiptoe across my nerve endings, announcing their presence with a low, warning tingling. My sex clenches hard in approval.

Sweat is starting to break out along my lower back where it is brushing against the bedroll and I want your mouth there. Truth be told, I want your mouth everywhere. I want you inside me and against me. Sharp desire reaches its own hand out in confession and I redouble my efforts to touch you.

"Kiss me."

My demand comes out more breathless than I would have liked but it still has the desired effect as you finally release my wrists, planting your elbows above my shoulders and bracing your weight on your forearms. Your mouth hovers over mine as your body continues to rock against me. I brace my legs a little wider, and your shudder is my reward. My hands find your hips, fingers gripping hard and your slow smile is the last thing I see before your mouth claims mine.

Secretly I can admit to myself that while making love with you is incredible, it is kissing you that keeps my body and my heart ready for you. Even when we are walking side by side, it is the memory of your kisses that are keeping me company.

It took me some time to admit to myself that being kissed by you, being marked and claimed by a Mord'Sith, could bring me to my knees. And on occasion, they have brought me to that exact position in front of you. The way you kiss me, as if your sole purpose is to take your pleasure and replace it with mine, binds me to you more than any words of devotion could. It is this sharing of yourself, contained in a simple act, which makes me yours in as much as you are mine.

I'm brought back into the moment by a sharp bite to my lower lip, your tongue soothing the mark before kissing me again, overwhelming my senses with your taste. Our tongues slide, warm and wet, and I moan loudly as you grind your hips in time with your kisses. I want to touch you but the trembling in your thighs lets me know you are close and a dark thrill shoots down my spine at the thought of you taking your pleasure like this.

Breaking from the kiss, you bite and kiss along my jaw, resting your lips against my ear, your groans and panting breaths causing my hands to leave your hips and curl over your shoulders, helpless to do anything but hold on.

Your throaty voice takes up residence in my ear as you continue to whisper your devotions, our breasts crushed together, your hips a wet blur sliding across my belly.

"My mouth is yours."

"My body is yours."

"My life is yours."

"My heart is yours." The last is delivered on rush of breath and I can feel your muscles straining, sweat easing the friction between our bodies as your turn your head, pressing your lips against my throat.

Knowing what both the Mord'Sith and my lover need, I brush my lips against your ear and whisper, "Come for me."

Your teeth scrape against my neck seconds before you push up onto your hands, your gaze holding mine as your hips thrust once, twice and then you are coming, your inner thighs flush against my legs as your stomach muscles tremble. My fingernails scrape across your forearms as I feel the heat of your wetness between your legs, my own toes curling at the sight of your head tipping back, your back arching against the aftershocks.

Reaching up, I brush the backs of my fingers against your hard nipples, placing one hand against your lower back to pull you forward, my mouth encompassing one and then the other. A belated apology for my accidental neglect and as I look up, I can see by your smile that my apology is accepted.

You bring your lips to mine, the kiss soft and deep and perfect. Stretching out your body against me, you prop your head against your hand, your other hand resting lightly against my rib cage. "So?"

Sweeping my hand along the curve of your spine, I bring my other hand to tuck your hair behind your ear, caressing the curve of your smile just because I can. "What, Cara?"

"Can Confessors make liars?"

I grin, thinking of all the things you just said to me. "Apparently not." Recognizing that look in your eye, I feel my smile waiver, to be replaced with an arched eyebrow. "What is that look for?"

I suck in a quick breath as you lean in to nuzzle against my collar bone, my hand instantly burying itself in the hair at the nape of your neck. Your voice is muffled against my skin, but your words are clear.

"Kahlan, since you can't confess me, who is to say?"

I grip your hair and pull your lips from my skin, meeting your smirk with a playful glare. "Does that mean that Mord'Sith are nice?"

Your smile only deepens as your grab me and fall back, pulling me against your body, your hands tangling my hair in their grasp. With a growl you pull my face closer to yours, hesitating for a brief moment, your lips poised to press against mine.

"You tell me."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Mord'Sith are not nice." You whisper, squeezing my wrists in your grasp. "And Confessors are not liars." I counter, tightening my shoulder and pulling, in an attempt to break free of your hold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Chapter 1 for Author's Notes

_Not nice_.

As I struggle to take another breath, I realize that 'nice' is the last word I would use right now.

Your voice is husky as it materializes somewhere around my legs. As my eyes are unable to open, I can only assume that is where you are.

"Does my Confessor require the Breath of Life?"

Blindly I reach down, wrapping your hair in my fist and dragging you up my body. My other hand grabs your side as your fingers slowly replace the motion of your tongue.

"Cara, be quiet."

"No."

"Cara…"

"That's not how this is going to work, Kahlan."

At that, my eyes open to find you watching me.

"Nice or not nice? You'll have to tell me. After I'm done with you."

Your fingers move from between my legs and I bite back a groan as you drag my wetness over my breast. Slowly, you lean down and wrap warm full lips around my nipple, sucking so softly that my grip loosens from your hair. Holding the back of your head, I watch your mouth, my stomach tensing with every brush of your tongue.

Bracing your hands against my ribs, you slide open mouthed kisses across my chest, rolling to your knees between my spread thighs. Somehow we've shifted and now the firelight bathes your skin in its flickering illumination. It's making my mouth water. Lightly, I run my nails along your back, a sigh of appreciation falling from my lips at the feel of your muscles moving under soft skin. Your teeth nip the underside of my breast, leaving your mark against my pale skin. My hands fly to your upper arms, pulling you into a kiss.

I wrap my legs around your hips, gasping into our kiss as you press hard against my wetness. Your hair tickles my lips as you use teeth and tongue against my throat to urge my head back. My body feels heavy, weighed down by pleasure and love. My hands fall to my sides as you slide your fingers from my hips to my knees and sit back on your heels. With one tug you settle me against your lap, the strength in your hands bringing a fresh surge of arousal.

You release one of my legs, using both hands to bring my foot to rest against your shoulder. Your mouth teases playfully against my ankle and my calf. Leaning up on my elbows, I toss my hair over my shoulders, smiling as you huff a breath out against my skin. Your eyes caress my breasts and as your fingertips graze closer and closer to my aching center, all traces of amusement are gone as you pin me with your stare.

"Is this nice, Confessor?"

My palms curl into fists as my chin lowers and I watch you from beneath my lashes.

"Yes."

You press a kiss to the arch of my foot, letting my leg drop to join the other as my thighs rest on top of yours. Your left hand glides across my lower belly as your fingertips stroke along my hipbone. Your thumbs slide teasingly against the damp curls between my legs, each movement arcing like lightning between my skin and the bundle of nerves straining for your attention.

"What about this?"

I can only nod my head as your thumbs press lower, my wetness kissing your fingertips as we both moan at the sensation. I buck against you, needing you to touch me but your hands simply press harder against my thighs, holding me in place. Your eyes never leave mine as your right hand fans out across my belly, your thumb teasing light circles against my sex.

"And this? Would you consider this nice?"

Your thumb brushes over me, teasing up one side and then the other. Unable to hold myself up any longer, I fall onto my back, my hands searching for purchase among the bedroll.

"Cara, please stop teasing me."

My hips push against your hand, seeking a firmer touch as your thumb continues to stroke too lightly to do anything but drive me mad. I feel wanton, laying spread out in front of you, my body moving solely for pleasure. Duty and protection forgotten in the heat of your touch.

"Are you asking me or commanding me, Kahlan?"

The hitch in your breath belies your training and I watch the shadows move against your throat as you swallow hard. I can feel your thighs flexing under my own and I wonder if you even realize that you've begun to move against me. I spread my arms out wide, gaining leverage to roll my hips in earnest against you, my voice pitched low as I watch you.

"Please, Cara. Please…please…"

My name is a groan from your mouth. The air rushes from my lungs as you turn your hand, two fingers sliding through my wetness and filling me before I can even blink. My back arches as your fingers move inside me, the slowness in direct contrast to the quick breaths I can hear over the roar of blood in my ears.

I bite my lip as your gaze drops from mine, to watch your own fingers, glistening in the firelight. I see you, lost in the pleasure of taking me and my heart races against my throat. I want to tell you what it does to me to watch you like this, the woman inside the warrior taking her lover for no reasons other than love and desire. But any words I have falter as you look at me once again, licking your lips before you speak.

"You feel so warm and wet around my fingers. Is this all for me, Confessor?"

Your curl your fingers, forcing my answer in the form of moan. Your hips thrust into me and pleasure ignites like a torch under my skin, a sheen of sweat covering my body.

Your lips are parted, pursing with each breath and I reach for you, desperation tightening each muscle as I beg for you again.

"Your mouth, Cara. Give me your mouth."

Anticipation of your kiss is already causing a familiar rush through my chest but your smile is wicked and your fingers are devastating my senses. My reason trails behind what I'm seeing through heavy lidded eyes, leaving me unprepared.

Unprepared for your hands gripping my inner thighs, stretching my muscles wider as you settle between my legs. Unprepared for your tongue teasing the crease between my hip and my thigh. I dig my heels into the ground and try to remember to breathe.

Your fingers spread wide on my thighs, your thumbs spreading me open as your tongue licks through my wetness in one rough pass, flickering softly against my clit. I can feel my magic quivering inside me, taut as a bowstring. Vibrating with every moan passing across your lips.

When we first became lovers, I couldn't watch you do this. Your cheeks flushed, my wetness on your lips, your soft tongue moving inside me as you never looked away from my face. Modesty overrode the experience before fear swept in and staked a claim. Pushing you away, I'd finish with my head thrown back, my eyes shut tight against my release, my hands stiff at my sides, my fear tangled like another lover against me. Your adamant statements afterwards that you could not be confessed seemed more like bravado than reality and my heart was in no position to test your theory. Your stubbornness, and a locked door at an inn, soon shattered my self-control and I came on a rush of pleasure, blind with fear. Your cocky grin greeted me when I could finally open my eyes. Your fingers teased me to another release as your softly spoken words kept me watching you, proving your point yet again that you cannot be confessed.

Your lips bring my meandering thoughts to a sharp conclusion as you softly start to suck, your tongue in constant motion against my clit. My body tightens and I drag my fingers through your hair, holding you tighter to me, lost in the sensations of your mouth.

Rocking my hips against your tongue, you hold steady and let me take my pleasure this way. A lesson you taught me weeks ago as I knelt at your feet in the darkness of a stable, the smells of hay and horses mixing with the scent of your arousal. Your hands brace my lower back, supporting me as I tremble and shake, my upper body curving towards you.

"Cara, I…." _I love you. I need you. I want you_.

All these words tumble against my teeth, kept there by my clenched jaw, my tongue struggling to push them out. Suddenly your lips wrap around me and suck hard and my magic bursts inside, shattering words and thoughts, leaving only sounds to race out of a throat made raw by pleasure.

You replace your mouth with your thigh, pressing tightly against my body, kissing me. I rock against you as the taste of my wetness slides along our tongues. Wrapping my arms around your shoulders, I break the kiss to rest my cheek against yours, breathing out the last of my release.

Humming in contentment, I turn my head as you shift to my side, reaching down to pull the blanket up over our bodies. While I could never call what you are doing 'cuddling' to your face, I can't help but smile as you tuck yourself against my body, your legs tangling with mine under the blanket. As you settle your head against my shoulder, your lips a pleasant warmth on my neck, your right hands slides soothingly across my stomach, coming to rest possessively over my hip.

"I love the way you touch me."

"Is it…"

"If you say 'nice', you'll be sleeping in your own bedroll."

"Liar."

I feel your smile against my throat and drop a kiss to your forehead. I draw light circles against your back as my other hand slips under the blanket to twine with yours. I close my eyes and let sleep finally claim us both.


End file.
